The drive home was long, longer than usual. Or maybe it just felt that way because of the weight pressing on my chest. The city outside blurred into streaks of light, but my mind was too loud to notice any of it.
Every red light, every turn, every mile was another reminder of the promise I had broken. The dinner I had written in my own hand. The smile I had pictured on Rose's face when I imagined walking into the restaurant with her hand in mine. Instead, I had chosen business.
I told myself it was necessary. That meeting tonight had been about more than golf and polite laughter. It had been about survival. My uncles were circling like wolves, whispering into shareholders' ears, spinning their stories about me being reckless, unstable, undeserving. If I had not shown up tonight, the investor might have slipped through my fingers. And if he walked away, I knew exactly what would happen next, my uncles would swoop in, tear apart everything my grandfather built with his sweat and everything my father gave his life to protect.
They had spent their years enjoying the wealth, throwing parties, burning through money. They never lifted a hand when it came to running the empire. That work had fallen to my grandfather and then to my father. Men who believed in building, not wasting. Men who believed in legacy.
Now the weight of that legacy was mine. And I was damned if I was going to let men who had done nothing but drink and gamble their lives away steal it.
Still… as the car cut through the night, another thought gnawed at me. Was legacy worth it if I was losing Rose in the process?
When I pulled into the long driveway of the mansion, the house looked still, dark, almost unwelcoming. But as I stepped out and closed the car door behind me, I noticed it one light on in the far end of the house. It was a long walk from the front door to that room, and each step echoed against the marble floors like a drumbeat of dread.
By the time I reached the living room, the sight of her nearly stopped me cold.
Rose sat on the edge of the couch, a cigarette glowing faintly in her hand. The smoke curled upward, gray and fragile, filling the space with a heaviness I had not felt in years. My heart twisted. Rose had not smoked in so long. She had quit years ago. If she was smoking again tonight, it meant something inside her had broken.
I wanted to go to her, to kneel at her feet, to take the cigarette from her hand and tell her I was sorry. But when I opened my mouth, the words felt heavy.
"Rose," I said softly.
She did not look at me. She took a long drag, exhaled, and stared straight ahead as if I were not even there.
"Rose, please… talk to me."
Her voice came, sharp and flat. "Do you even realize what you did?"
I swallowed hard. "I know I am late, but if you will let me explain..."
"Explain?" She turned then, and her eyes burned. They were glassy with unshed tears, yet her anger made them sharp. "You do not get to explain, Maxwell. You left me there. Alone. Do you have any idea what it feels like to sit there waiting while people look at you with pity? To know your husband promised to show up, promised to celebrate you, and then never came?" Her voice cracked, then rose again. "I was humiliated."
The word cut deep. I opened my mouth, desperate to defend myself. "I never meant to humiliate you. I wanted tonight to be special. I sent the roses, the card. I planned the dinner. But I had to go to that meeting, Rose. It was important."
Her laugh was bitter, empty. "The company. Always the company. When do I matter, Max? When does your wife matter?" She stubbed the cigarette hard into the ashtray, the sound harsh. "Money is not everything."
My patience thinned, my chest burning with the words I had been holding in for years. "Do not say that. Money is important, Rose. Without it, there is nothing. Do you think this house, this life, the clothes on your back....do you think they come from love alone? You are living a better life now than the one you grew up having, and you know it."
Her face crumpled, then hardened. "So that is what you think of me? A charity case? Some poor girl you rescued from the gutter who should just sit quietly and be grateful every time you toss her scraps of your time?"
"Do not twist my words!" I snapped, my voice echoing through the room. "I am working myself to the bone to give you everything, Rose. Everything. And you sit here acting like it means nothing."
She stepped closer, her finger stabbing the air between us. "I did not marry you for your money, Max. I married you for you. And the truth is, I would rather have nothing with a man who actually shows up for me than have all of this with someone who is never here."
Her words landed like blows. My vision blurred with anger and pain. I wanted to shake her, to make her see what I saw. "You do not understand what it takes to carry this family name. To keep the empire alive. My father gave everything for this company. My grandfather built it from dust. If I fail, their sacrifice means nothing."
"And what about me?" she cried, her voice trembling. "Do I mean nothing? Do you even see me anymore, or am I just another piece of furniture in this mansion you are trying so hard to protect?"
The silence between us tightened like a rope. And then she said it.
"Then let us get a divorce."
The words were soft but brutal. She lifted her chin, her eyes locked on mine. "We signed a prenup. You have nothing to worry about. You can keep building your legacy, and I will get out of your way."
Something inside me snapped. My fist slammed into the wall, just inches from her head. The sound was deafening, the crack of bone against plaster making her flinch violently. Her eyes went wide with fear, and for the first time, I saw her actually afraid of me.
Regret slammed into me instantly, but it was too late. She recoiled, backing away as tears filled her eyes. Then she turned and ran down the hall. A door slammed, a lock clicked, and I was left standing in the ruins of our fight.
I pressed my forehead to the wall, my knuckles throbbing. I had never wanted to hurt her, but my anger had turned me into someone I barely recognized. Someone who could drive her away.
I whispered to myself, to the silence, "I will fix this. In the morning, I will make it right. I swear it."
I stayed there for what felt like hours, listening for any sound from behind that locked door. All I heard was silence.
The first crack of dawn crept through the windows when my phone buzzed on the table. I grabbed it, hoping it was her, hoping she had texted me even just one word. But it was not Rose.
It was my secretary.
I answered quickly. "Yes?"
"Sir, you need to come to the office," his voice came, low and serious.
My heart tightened. "Now? What is it?"
"I cannot explain over the phone," he said carefully. "But it is important. You should come quickly."
His tone gave nothing away. Not panic. Not urgency. Just enough to leave me restless, uneasy.
I looked down the hall, at the closed door that separated me from my wife. Every part of me wanted to stay, to knock, to beg her forgiveness. But the call of duty pulled at me again, heavy and unrelenting.
I stood there for a long moment, torn between the two worlds that were tearing me apart. Then I whispered into the silence, hoping she could somehow hear me through the walls.
"Rose… I promise, I will fix this when I come back. Please, wait for me."
I grabbed my jacket and keys, my footsteps echoing as I walked through the vast, empty halls of the mansion. With one last glance at the locked door, I left.
The house stayed silent, holding her tears and my regret.